


Alvarado‘s Bathtub Boot Screech and the Molasses Minute

by Byacolate, mywordsflyup



Series: Salted Caramel [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Courtship, Dating, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5892484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vineyards are vast, and bad dates are subjective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alvarado‘s Bathtub Boot Screech and the Molasses Minute

**Author's Note:**

> This farce takes place between Butterbile and Abyssal Peach.

Things are going well. Really well. Which, in Carver’s experience, means one of two things: Either he is going to majorly fuck up at some point in the near future, or the universe is going to fuck it up for him - probably in the form of some kind of disaster on a cosmic scale. Secretly, he hopes for the latter. At least then this whole thing would end with Felix’ good opinion about him still intact. Doom, death, and damnation, but at least Felix still likes him.

 

Because there might be a chance that Felix actually, truly likes him. Which is still baffling to Carver if he’s honest with himself, but he doesn’t really have time to evaluate the absurdity of the situation because… things are going well.

 

It’s their third date - a fact which Bethany didn’t fail to mention a dozen times before he left. “According to all the magazines, that’s when he invites you in for a cup of coffee at the end of the night and that coffee then turns into wild, unbridled sexual escapades. Applied to you that probably means you might actually convince Spicy Nuts to kiss you!”

 

“I don’t want to _rush_ him,” Carver told her. “And stop calling him that.”

 

Carver wouldn’t mind kissing Felix. In fact, he‘s kind of hoping for it. Since that asteroid is definitely coming. Because Felix is smiling at him. And brushing his hand against his sometimes when they walk. And laughing at his jokes - even the really, really bad ones.

 

He looks over to Felix who is talking to the Orlesian vendor selling different lavender soaps. Actually _speaking_ to him in Orlesian, which is really not something Carver ever thought he’d find attractive. Of course Felix speaks Orlesian. Carver doesn’t know why he was even surprised. Because Felix is really smart. And cultured. And Carver really wants to kiss him.

 

The little summer market at the vineyard was a tip from Sebastian, of all people. But while he might not be the first person Carver would ask for romantic advice, he‘s the only person Carver knows who knows his way around fancy stuff like this. Vineyards and lake views and probably lavender soap as well.

 

Felix comes away from the vendor with an entire box of the stuff, to Carver’s bafflement. He’s checked the prices - for one lousy bar of the fancy Orlesian stuff, Felix could buy at least three down at the shop.

 

“You like that stuff?” Carver asks, taking the box from Felix’s hands to examine it closer.

 

Felix coughs politely into his fist. “Yes, I… well. They make this with honey,” Felix says. Carver can’t read the bloody Orlesian in loopy font all over the box, so he hands it back over after sniffing at the soap. “I have... sensitive skin, I suppose. It’s difficult to find anything to suit me well in more, ah. Convenient venues.”

 

He smiles somewhat apologetically, but Carver couldn’t fathom what he’d have to apologize for.

 

“Yeah,” he says, brow furrowed. “I can’t think of anything we stock that’s good for soft skin _and_ smells nice.”

 

“Sensitive skin,” Felix corrects, laughing quietly. Carver tucks his hands into his pockets and doesn’t mention how interested he is in discovering just how sensitive Felix’s skin is.

 

“Still,” Carver says, wandering in the direction of the food trucks, “you could probably buy a house for the cost of everything that ponce is peddling.”

 

“It’s homemade,” Felix reminds him. “And imported.” Carver rolls his eyes.

 

“Home-sodding-made. _I’ll_ make you some, for free. Whatsit, honey and soap? Some flowers? That’s easy. Won’t even cost you a penny. Want some fried dough?”

 

Felix laughs and gently bumps into his side. “I’ve never tried it.”

 

Carver turns his head to see if Felix is serious. “Really?”

 

“I’m not from here. I mean, I’ve heard of it, of course. It’s just not a very Tevinter thing.” Felix smiles and peeks around Carver to get a better look at the stand where a short old lady is preparing the fried dough.

 

“Oh,” Carver says. “Of course. Do you want to try it then?” He has the sudden thought that he is pushing Felix to eat something he might not like. It all seems awfully Fereldan to him all of a sudden. Not that it’s a bad thing. He’s just… thinking too much.

 

Felix seems to have none of these concerns, already halfway to the stand.

 

The dough comes out hot and knotted in twisted shapes. From the display, they can be sprinkled with powdered sugar, chocolate, or strawberry syrup. The woman in the truck smiles benignly at Felix and Carver.

 

Felix exchanges pleasantries with her before he turns to Carver. “What do you recommend?”

 

“All of it,” Carver says. The lady laughs, and Felix’s smile widens. Carver ducks his head a little, trying very, very hard not to grin like an idiot back. “But… maybe we’ll take the sugar one? There’s lots for you to try, and you’ll get sick on this stuff if you eat too much.”

 

“One to share?” the lady asks, her hands already moving in preparation.

 

“Uhm.” Carver looks to Felix. Felix just smiles.

 

“I’d be honored to share some sugary fried dough with you.”

 

“Oh, alright.” Carver can feel himself blushing. “Just one to share then.” He steps forward quickly to hand the woman the money, Felix’ soft laughter in his ear.

 

While she prepares their food, Felix asks her all kinds of questions about her ingredients - but not in that annoying way some rich people do who only eat something if it's organic, fair trade and locally farmed. Carver gets enough of those at the store.  Felix is actually interested.

 

“I'm not giving you the family recipe,  young man,” she finally scolds, a wide smile dimpling her cheeks. “Don't even try it.”

 

Felix gives her his most innocent smile. “I would never.”

 

She just laughs and hands them their fried dough. Felix tries a little piece immediately, despite how it must scald him. “This is very good,” he says. “Thank you.”

 

There is a bit of powdered sugar on his upper lip and Carver gestures with his thumb. The way Felix’ tongue darts out to lick it away is so distracting that Carver almost stumbles over the uneven cobblestones.

 

“You‘re very charming,” he tells Felix as soon as he has regained his balance.

 

“Am I?” Felix’ smile is a bit confused.

 

“ _Absolutely._ ”

 

Felix watches him for a long moment before he turns his head away from Carver. Shit. “Sorry,” he blurts, shoving his hands back into his pockets and glaring up toward the setting sun. “That was… it came from nowhere. Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” Felix insists. Carver peeks back at him, but Felix still won’t look back, idly picking at the sugary treat as they stroll. “I was only caught off guard. I’m… pleased you think so.”

 

“I can come on pretty strong,” Carver grimaces, fiddling with the keys in his pockets. Felix laughs a little, and finally, he extends the paper plate and glances back up at Carver.

 

“I like that about you.”

 

“Oh.” Carver really doesn’t know what to say to that, so he stuffs his mouth with fried dough to put it off.

 

He really doesn’t know what to make of the silence they’re stuck in as he peruses the trucks for something else to pile in Felix’s arms.

 

“I wouldn’t be used to someone as… as candid as you are, about certain things.”

 

“What d’you mean?” Carver asks, cautiously. Felix makes a graceful little gesture with his hand before he takes another sugary bite. He waits to finish chewing before he speaks, like a proper _gentleman_.

 

“Things are still a bit different in Tevinter,” Felix says, using a paper napkin to dab powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth. “You asking me out, romantic walks by the lake, strolls over little country markets.” He makes an all-encompassing gesture. “None of that. We likely would have met in some seedy bar, if at all.” He smiles as if the topic isn’t horrifying.

 

“Oh.” Carver feels a little sick to his stomach, not sure if because of the fried dough or because of Felix’ words. “I thought it was different. Even in Tevinter, I mean.”

 

“Ah yes,” Felix says and his smile has a bitter edge that Carver doesn’t like. “Officially everyone is very accepting nowadays. There‘s even a gay magister now. It’s all very progressive.” Sarcasm doesn’t look good on him - not when it’s tainted with this much hurt. “But most men still prefer to keep things… private. Hotel rooms and back alleys instead of , ah. This.”

 

Carver swallows. The thought that someone would keep Felix a secret, like something shameful to be hidden away, makes him bristle with irritation. “I’m sorry,” he says, a little afraid anything more would offend Felix.

 

“It’s alright,” Felix says quickly. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood. It’s just… new for me.”

 

Carver picks a sizeable chunk of dough off and chews on it, contemplating whether or not he really wants an answer to the question he knows is about to fall out of his mouth. “Which parts, exactly?”

 

“Hmm? Oh… all of this, really.”

 

Carver licks his fingers clean. “What d’you mean, all?”

 

Felix’s smile turns puzzled. “Sorry? All of it. I’ve never done any of this before, with anyone like you, or… anyone.”

 

If there’d been any food in Carver’s hands, he’s positive he would’ve dropped it. “ _What_.”

 

Felix shrugs, but his cheeks go dark, and Carver curses to himself. “No, sorry, that’s not what I… I just mean… how? You’re _you_.”

 

“Well. That’s very kind of you.” He’s definitely red now. “With all my studies, I never had much time, or… interest. My parents have always been protective. I’ve only been introduced into the _proper_ sort of social circles, and something like… like this, would not have been _proper_.”

 

He doesn’t sound nearly as bitter about it as he could. If anything, he just seems exasperated.

 

“There’s nothing improper about it,” Carver says even though he knows it’s a silly thing to say.

 

Felix smiles. “No, there isn’t.”

 

They walk in silence for a while with Felix finishing the last few pieces of fried dough. From the corner of his eye, Carver watches him lick his thumb clean and thinks Tevinter is a strange place when someone like Felix doesn’t have men - people - falling at his feet. He doesn’t think any social stigma could have kept him from that.

 

“I should have taken you on proper first dates then,” Carver says. “Fancy restaurants or the movies or something like that.”

 

Felix laughs softly. “Are you saying our first dates weren’t good enough?”

 

“No, no!” Carver shakes his head. “They were really good! Just… I was trying to be creative.” He winces.

 

Felix’ hand brushes against his and this time he is pretty certain it’s not by accident. “I really enjoyed them.”

 

“Yeah?” Carver straightens a little. “Me too. I liked them. With you.”

 

He takes the plate and dumps it in a nearby bin to keep himself from facing Felix with the full-on effect of his blush.

 

Really, it’s ridiculous. He’s a grown man - older than Felix by a decent margin. He shouldn’t be fawning like this, flustering himself every other sentence.

 

But there’s a light in Felix’s eyes and powdered sugar on his lower lip, and it’s pretty much worth it.

 

“C’mon,” he says, nudging Felix’s shoulder with his. “I’ve got to feed you with more than that rubbish.”

 

“It was delicious,” Felix says, nudging back. “I’d like to learn how to make it. All the things you could do with something so simple…”

 

“Oh? You like that? Baking. Cooking. That sort of thing.”

 

Felix gestures again with his artistic fingers. “Oh, every now and then. It’s a bit of a hobby.”

 

“I’m not very good at it,” Carver admits. “Bethany does most of our cooking. But… she’s also not very good.”

 

Felix laughs. “I could cook something for you someday. If you want.”

 

“Yes,” Carver says, a little too quickly. “I mean, of course. I would like that. And I’m very easy to please.”

 

“Are you?” Felix raises an eyebrow and Carver wants to follow up with a pained groan. Or with being swallowed by the ground, if possible. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Felix’ smile is only a little teasing but Carver still feels the heat creep back into his cheeks.

 

He turns his head under the guise of looking at the different food stands. “Do you want anything specific?”

 

“I’m happy to follow your lead,” Felix tells him, taking his own look around. It’s probably just for show. “Aren’t you still showing me all Ferelden has to offer?”

 

“Yeah, but you can’t eat all of this in one night,” Carver snorts. Still, he pulls Felix over to the fanciest barbecue truck he can find, and treats Felix to Druffalo-Five-Ways.

 

“It’s amazing, what you can do with one great, stupid animal,” Carver groans, caressing his burger fondly. Felix nearly chokes on a spicy strip of druffalo meat when he laughs. All the benches are taken, so they prop themselves against a nearby tree, sharing small heaps of meat and fried potatoes.

 

Felix doesn’t complain about how… pedestrian the food probably is, but then, he wouldn’t. At the very least, he seems to be genuinely enjoying himself, stealing bites of Carver’s more than once.

 

Still. He deserves something fancy. Wine, probably. ‘Vints like wine. They probably invented it. Surely, Carver thinks, he’ll be able to spot a wine vendor somewhere between all the ale and moonshine.

 

It takes a couple more minutes of wandering around the market until Carver spots one. The stand  sits in the heart of the square, a robust wooden construction draped with decorative vines and grapes. The vendor himself is a large man with ruddy cheeks and a loud booming voice. Only when they are close enough to read the sign mounted next to the stand, Carver realizes that it’s the vineyard’s proprietor himself.

 

“Would you like some wine?” Carver asks.

 

Felix reads the sign and smiles. “I don’t think I’ve ever had Fereldan wine.”

 

Carver can’t quite decide if that’s a good or bad thing. He never drinks wine and the ones that Bethany likes are very sweet and very Orlesian. And they look nothing like the bottles on the counter here.

 

The wine vendor must have seen them looking because he waves at them enthusiastically until they start to make their way over. “You look thirsty,” he proclaims, pulling out two glasses from somewhere under the counter. “You can’t possibly leave without having tried our very own selection. Ferelden’s finest!”

 

“I’m driving,” Carver manages to blurt out but the man just laughs.

 

“One sip then. A tasting.”

 

Felix puts a hand on his arm. “It’s fine. I doubt one sip will make you drunk. Not with all that druffalo in your stomach.”

 

The vendor fills one glass for Felix, all the while babbling about acid and aroma and all kinds of things Felix seems to understand. Carver tips his own glass a bit and looks skeptically at the little sip of wine at the bottom.

 

Felix gives him an encouraging little smile and Carver downs his glass in one gulp. It tastes just like wine always tastes to him: awful.

 

Dutifully though, he swallows it down, and forces his expression to remain neutral as he glances toward Felix.

 

And Felix, who always tends to have a mildly pleasant expression, for the first time since Carver’s met him seems… cracked.

 

“Thank you,” he says, real politely, first fake-smiling toward the proprietor, and then to Carver. “What do you think?”

 

“Oh, uh… I don’t know much about wine.” Carver watches Felix lick his lips, the faintest grimace flickering over his features before it’s gone.

 

“Would Bethany like a bottle?” Felix asks, and Carver nearly scoffs. He tamps down on the urge.

 

“Bethany prefers the pink stuff,” he says. It’s half-true, at least.

 

If Felix is grappling so poorly for excuses, the wine must be bad. Actually bad. Carver’s more than a little disappointed in his countrymen. Still, he knows from experience that they can work magic out of moonshine. He jerks his chin meaningfully, and Felix brightens.

 

“We’ll keep looking,” Felix says, with a nod to the vendor before they make a quick escape.

 

Once they’re out of earshot in the thick of the market-goers, Carver tilts his head toward Felix. “That bad?”

 

“Oh, no,” Felix says, locking his hands behind his back and peering at the long menu of a waffle truck. “Surely not. Just… not to my tastes.”

 

“Yeah. That’s because you have good ones.” Carver frowns a little. “You don’t have to pretend for my sake. I can take it.”

 

Felix looks around and lowers his voice as if he’s afraid the wine vendor could be lurking around the corner to eavesdrop. “I certainly hope that wasn’t Ferelden’s finest…” He softens it with a little smile and of course it’s not like Carver made the atrocious wine himself, but he still can‘t help but feel a bit responsible. He knows next to nothing about wine but even he should have seen this coming.

 

“And here I keep talking about showing you all Ferelden has to offer,” Carver says with a groan. “I’m surprised you’re not halfway back to Tevinter already.”

 

Felix laughs and it eases at least a little bit of the tension in Carver’s shoulders. “Would you believe me if I told you this is the first Fereldan thing I didn’t particularly care for?”

 

“Probably not.”

 

“Well, it’s true. There are a few Fereldan things I have come to care for a great deal.” The way his gaze lingers on him makes Carver’s heart beat a little faster. But before he can say something stupid, Felix turns away and looks around the market. “What do you say? Should we get a cup of coffee and maybe walk along the lake for a bit?”

 

“Still need to get the taste of that wine out of your mouth?”

 

“I admit that’s one of the reasons, yes.”

 

“Come on, then.”

 

Felix takes his coffee black, with a dash of cinnamon from one of the glass containers at the side of the stall. Carver tucks the knowledge away, just in case. Carver takes his like a proper man - with plenty of milk, and sweet enough to rot his teeth.

 

The stars were out earlier, but quite suddenly, they’re blotted from the night sky with clouds. Carver frowns skyward - the forecast said nothing about clouds. He resolves not to worry Felix with it, if it’s only passing weather, though the farther from the car they get around the lake, the more concern niggles at the back of his mind.

 

At least, until Felix’s hand brushes his with a little more intent.

 

Carver nearly chokes on the coffee going down his windpipe and Felix’s hand disappears, quiet apologies coming from his direction as he pats Carver’s back through the coughing fit.

 

When the coughing finally stops, Carver is glad that it’s probably too dark to see just how red his face is - from both embarrassment and trying to breathe. Felix’ hand doesn’t brush against his again and Carver silently curses himself. He wants to hold Felix’ hand but feels too awkward about now, still wheezing just a little bit and clearing his throat from time to time.

 

“Do you want to sit down for a moment?” Felix asks and points to a wooden bench close to the shore. He looks just as mortified as Carver feels.

 

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

 

They walk across the little patch of grass between the path and the bench. There‘s a weird distance between them, and even when they sit down, Felix seems leaves a bit of space between Carver and himself.

 

“I think someone donated this bench in their dog’s name,” Felix says and points at the little brass plate on the backrest. Carver leans in to make it out in the dark.

 

“Well, I told you I’d show you Ferelden. That’s about as Fereldan as you can get.”

 

Felix laughs and looks out over the lake. “Oh, this is lovely.”

 

Carver follows his gaze and finds he has to agree. From his spot, they can see all the way across the lake, the lights of the vineyard and the market glowing warm in the distance. They are reflected on the black surface of the lake, long streaks of light stretching towards them. The moon above is almost full, even if wisps of clouds keep pushing in front of it. The wind has picked up and in the cooling night air, a thin mist starts rising from the lake.

 

Carver doesn’t worry much about until he sees Felix folding his arms, shivering just a little bit.

 

“Are you cold?” Carver asks, already halfway out of his jacket. Felix glances at him and laughs outright.

 

“Don’t be silly,” he says, holding up a hand to ward him off. “I’m always cold here. It’s an unfortunate side effect of being acclimated to the north.”

 

“Take this then, you daft thing. Cold is still cold.”

 

Felix hesitates for a brief moment before he moves himself a little closer and takes the jacket. He sticks his arms in the sleeves, and Carver’s stomach does a little flip when he notices that they reach nearly all the way to his fingertips. Felix seems to notice, too, and sighs.

 

“This feels… very cinematic,” he admits, clasping his hands before him. He’s looking at Carver now, which means it’s Carver’s turn to look away, abashed.

 

“Yeah, well… a leading role would suit you.”

 

“ _Stop_ ,” Felix laughs, leaning back against the bench. Carver shrugs and downs the last lukewarm remains of his coffee.

 

Felix shifts a little, subtly. It would’ve been subtler if his hand didn’t nudge against Carver’s.

 

There‘s no coughing fit this time, and since Felix doesn’t move his hand away, Carver figures it’s not there by accident either. He doesn’t want to spook Felix, so he just nudges back a bit before carefully lacing his little finger with Felix’s. He can hear him take a shaky breath and then Felix slips his hand over to him a little further until it’s covered by Carver’s.

 

When Carver turns his head, he sees the little smile on Felix’ face and the flutter of his eyelashes.

 

“Your fingers are ice-cold,” Carver says carefully and runs his thumb along the side of Felix’s palm.

 

“They have been ever since I stepped off the plane at Denerim Airport, months ago.” He pauses for a moment and ducks his head. “I’ve never done this before.”

 

“Mhm?” It takes a few seconds for Carver to realize what Felix means. “Is this… Is it okay?” He’s fully prepared to remove his hand, even if his chest feels a little tight just thinking about it.

 

“Oh,” Felix says and turns his head to him. “No, it’s very nice. I like it.” He shifts his hand a bit to curl his fingers around Carver’s, holding him in place.

 

Felix’ eyes are very wide as he looks up at Carver. And very close. Carver can see them flick to his lips for a split second and suddenly feels very warm, even without his jacket. He thinks that maybe Felix wants to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss Felix - as improbable as the idea sounds in his head.

 

He should ask him, he decides. He wants to do this right. Felix deserves no less.

 

Which is exactly the moment when the universe decides to fuck it up for him. It’s not quite an asteroid but when the first raindrops hit Carver’s cheeks, it might as well be.

 

He looks up and feels another.

 

“Shit.” Carver stands, tugging Felix up with him. “It’s raining.”

 

“Hardly,” Felix answers, readjusting the one-handed grip on his box and empty coffee cup. Carver takes the cup from him and tosses it away in a bin on the path, if only to ensure a little more time with Felix’s hand in his.

 

For the moment, Felix is right - the drops slowly turn into a light drizzle as they make their way back around the lake. Umbrellas are up around the stalls, wide beacons of white in the distance.

 

Their luck holds out until they reach the grassy drive. Felix and Carver bolt the remaining distance to the car when the heavens open up and what Carver can only describe as a torrential-sodding-downpour begins.

 

It takes well over five minutes to find where they parked. Once Carver manages to stop fiddling with his keys like an idiot and gets them in, they all but leap into the car, slamming the doors and panting. Felix runs a hand over his shorn hair, dewey with rain, and laughs breathlessly.  

 

“So you were serious about showing me everything Ferelden has to offer.”

 

“Andraste’s tits!” Carver wipes the water out of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“You don’t control the weather, now do you?” Felix nudges his shoulder where the fabric of his shirt clings to his skin. “I should be the one to apologize for taking your jacket.”

 

Carver makes a face. “I should have known when I saw the first clouds.”

 

“It’s fine.” Felix’s smile is honest but Carver notices that he’s already shivering. Even the jacket didn’t do much to keep him from being completely soaked.

 

“Shit,” Carver says. “Wait a second.” He turns around in his seat, frantically searching the car for anything that Felix could use as a towel. When he borrowed Hawke’s car and then spent a whole morning cleaning the damn thing, he didn’t really factor in a fucking deluge. There‘s an old fleece blanket on the backseat and he twists a bit to reach it. “Here. It’s probably full of dog hair, though. Sorry about that.”

 

Felix looks at him skeptically. “What about you?”

 

“I’m used to it,” Carver says and shrugs. “And I don’t want you to get sick. So take it.”

 

Felix takes the blanket and shakes out the worst of the dog hair before draping it over himself.

 

By the time Carver finally starts the car and gets them on the long winding road back to Redcliffe, the windows have fogged up so much that he needs to wipe them every few minutes just to see. It takes another few minutes for the heater to start, getting rid of the condensation and most of Felix’ shivering.

 

Once the heat kicks in, Carver hesitantly starts to believe the evening might be salvaged after all.

 

Naturally, that’s when the engine starts to sputter.

 

“No,” Carver demands.

 

As though the car was and extension of Hawke itself, it does the exact opposite of what Carver asks.

 

It makes a dying sort of noise. Reigning in his temper with the last vestiges of self control he possesses, Carver turns the car off to the side of the road before it can die completely.

 

“Can we call someone?” Felix asks as Carver clicks on the hazard lights and undoes his belt.

 

“Could do,” he grunts. Not Hawke, though. He’s liable to strangle Hawke for this. “On this road, it’d probably be quicker to wait for a good samaritan. Hop over to my seat, I’ll push.”

 

“You’ll _what?_ ” Felix asks, but Carver’s already climbing out of the car. “Wait!” He grabs Carver by the wet sleeve of his shirt. “Let me at least try.”

 

Carver is about to tell him he probably won’t even get reception here in the middle of nowhere but stops when he sees Felix‘s face fall as he stares at the phone in his hand.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I think it got wet,” Felix murmurs.

 

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Mortification spreads through his chest, fast and hot enough to make him forget about the cold. “Let me see.” He takes the phone from Felix’ hands. It’s one of the really fancy expensive ones  but that doesn’t change the fact the water-streaked screen stays black.

 

“Don’t try to turn it on,” Felix says quickly. “It’ll only short-circuit.”

 

“Fuck.” Carver bites his bottom lip. “I feel awful about this. I’ll buy you a new one.” In his head he’s already adding up his paychecks, which doesn’t help with the panicky feeling in his chest.

 

Felix takes the phone back, his cheeks red. “No no no…” He puts it into the pocket of Carver’s jacket. “I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll let it dry at home. I think you’re supposed to put it into a bag of rice?”

 

Carver snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s my fault you go so wet, so I’ll replace it.” He doesn’t say how absurd he finds it that a phone as expensive as that one can’t even handle a little bit of rain.

 

“No, it’s fine. I was due for a new one anyway.” By the way Felix avoids his eyes, Carver knows he’s lying, but the tight line of his mouth tells him not to push it.

 

Carver pulls out his own phone, completely dry and functional. “Well, no reception anyway. I’d better get to it.” He opens the car door again.

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“‘Course I am.” He shuts the door so Felix can crawl over into his seat without getting rained on.

 

The rain and the chill don‘t bother Carver terribly; he‘s been less prepared for worse in their childhood on the farm. Still, it‘s not particularly pleasant. He finds purchase on the slippery boot of the car and presses his weight into it. As far as cars go, it‘s a shitty, ancient model, but lightweight. In this predicament, it‘s preferable to almost any other denser car anybody with standards would have.

 

Carver supposes he should count himself lucky, then, that Hawke has none.

 

He nearly slips on a patch of mud, once, but catches himself before his knees can hit the ground.

 

Several cars pass and don’t stop, because of course they don’t. Carver doesn’t even have the heart to blame them in this weather, though he’d have a few gestures for each and every one if he had a hand free.

 

He’s soaked all the way to the bone when finally, a kindly soul slows beside them on the road.

 

“You look like you could use a hand,” a familiar voice calls from within. Carver squints through the downpour.

 

“A hand, or a jumper cable,” he calls back, and stops pushing as Alistair pulls up and does a bit of tricky driving on the narrow road to set his own car up to jump Carver’s. Alistair isn’t even directly Carver’s manager, but he‘s around with the shop’s owner enough on his downtime that they’ve become decently acquainted. If Alistair can get them back on the road, Carver will gladly trade him for Nathaniel any day.

 

“I might have one in the back,” Alistair says as he gets out of the car, a bright pink umbrella shielding him against the rain. “Let me check.” He hands Carver the umbrella to hold over them both while he searches the boot.

 

“Thanks for this,” Carver says through chattering teeth. Now that he stopped pushing the car, the cold has caught up with him.

 

“Aha!” Alistair comes back up with a jumper cable in hand. “One jumpstart, coming right up. I have to warn you - my wife is much better at this than I am.”

 

Carver doesn’t even try to hide his grin. He doesn’t doubt that for a second. Just as Alistair is opening the hood of the car, Carver hears the car door open behind him.

 

“Get back inside,” he tells Felix who sprints the short distance until he‘s underneath the safety of the umbrella. “You’ll catch your death.”

 

“So will you.” The umbrella is small enough to force Felix to cling to Carver side in order not to get too wet. “Hello,” he says to Alistair, somewhat clumsily. “I’m Felix.”

 

Alistair looks up. “I’m the man with the jump cable. They call me the Warden of the Road. A knight in shining armor to all those with shitty cars. Either that or Alistair.”

 

“I’ll call you whatever you want if you can hurry up,” Carver says.

 

“Fine.” Alistair sighs dramatically. “I’ll need one of you to start the car.”

 

Carver looks pointedly at Felix, who’s already clutching the jacket around himself. With a little gesture of forfeit, Felix ducks back into the car.

 

At Alistair’s signal, he starts the engine. Or... tries.

 

After two more failed attempts, he manages to get it running. Carver breathes a little sigh of relief when Alistair gives him two thumbs up. Carver’s never met anyone more eager to jump to help than Alistair, except possibly his wife.

 

“I reckon you should convince the Commander to give you a few days off for your good deeds,” Carver calls over the noise of the rain as they tuck the cables away and slam their hoods. Alistair laughs and claps Carver in between his sopping wet shoulder blades.

 

“Maker, you’re damp, aren’t you? Get home safely then, both of you!” He gives a jaunty wave to Felix and struggles with his umbrella for a moment before he disappears into his car. He doesn’t move, though, and as Carver slowly pulls out, Alistair’s watching to make sure they get back on the road.

 

“I take it you know each other?” Felix asks, waving a hand to Alistair from the window.

 

“Uh, he’s the husband of my boss.”

 

Felix sinks a little deeper into the seat, his hands tucked under his arms. “Small world.”

 

“Small town,” Carver corrects.

 

“He seems very nice.”

 

Carver makes a left turn onto the winding road through the woods leading back to Redcliffe. “Oh, he is. The Commander - that’s my boss -is as well. They’re just very big on the whole…” He takes one hand of the steering wheel to make a vague gesture. “The whole ‘We at Vigil‘s Keep are one big family’ thing.”

 

Felix laughs. “Is that the official slogan?”

 

“They never say it outright,” Carver admits. “But it’s implied. The Commander keeps assigning me these newbie employees to show them how things are done. She says she does it so I’m forced to come out of my shell. Doesn‘t listen when I remind her I‘m not a bleeding _turtle_.”

 

There‘s nothing mocking about Felix’s laugh.

 

By some stroke of good fortune, the car doesn’t die again. The heat is slow to return, though, and Carver can feel the hair on his arms prickle up with gooseflesh. He shifts in his seat, a little uncomfortable with the way his clothes cling to him like a cold, wet second skin. Rivulets of water trickle down his face from his soaked mop of hair, and he wipes at them absently.

 

Felix is staring. He must be quite a sight.

 

Carver can hardly believe what a disastrous turn the evening’s taken, and they drive mostly in silence through Redcliffe. Carver reaches for something to say that isn’t a monologue of apologies, but he comes up dry, and Felix… Felix just keeps glancing at him discretely.

 

They pull up in front of Felix’ house, the silence even more pronounced with the engine idle and the rain pattering on the roof. Carver opens his mouth, possibly for a new wave of apologies, but Felix is faster.

 

“I had a very good time,” he says, a little too loudly. Carver closes his mouth and stares at him. And then, as if Felix has read his mind, “I’m not just saying that.”

 

Carvers makes a face, humiliation like a hot coal in his stomach. “You don’t have to… say things. I - it‘s...” He’s just waiting for Felix to jump out of the car, run into the house and to never call him again.

 

“Would you like to come inside?”

 

Carver blinks. “What?” 

 

Another car drives by and in the passing headlights, Carver sees how dark Felix’ cheeks are and the way he‘s white-knuckling the seatbelt. “I didn’t… If you don’t want to that’s fine. I just thought you’d like to dry your clothes and drink some tea to get warm.”

 

Oh. He’s being _nice_. Of course he is. That’s just who Felix is.

 

Carver grips the steering wheel a little tighter and keeps his eyes on the parked car in front of him. “I can just do that at home. It’s fine.”

 

“Carver…” Felix puts his hand on Carver’s arm, just a light tentative touch, until Carver looks at him. “I really would like you to come inside.”

 

Carver doesn‘t believe him, not completely. But he lets himself be shepherded into the bungalow. He waits dutifully by the door for Felix to fetch him a towel, and as soon as the worst of it‘s mopped up, he accepts a loose pair of sweats and a t-shirt from Felix to change into.

 

As he peels the cold, wet clothes suctioned to his body, he wonders absently, with the lack of dry underwear, if it would be weirder for Felix to have offered a pair of his own to Carver, rather than, by design or by chance, force him to go commando. Carver really doesn‘t think Felix is that devious, but it stays on his mind anyway as he shoves his limbs into the too-small clothes.

 

The pants don‘t even reach his ankles, and ride low on his hips besides. The shirt nearly fits, a valiant effort on Felix‘s part, but it‘s still tight about the sleeves and chest.

 

Still, it‘s a fair bit more comfortable in what he‘s been given, so he takes his own sorry, soggy ball of clothing to Felix to throw in the tumble drier.

 

Felix’s eyes take it all in, from the tight sleeves to the exposed ankles, and he does a poor job of hiding the little grin that spreads across his face at the sight. Carver tugs on the hem of his shirt and mumbles his thanks.

 

After he puts the clothes away to dry, Felix ushers him into the kitchen, a bright and friendly room that smells like an amalgam of spice. It’s clean but looks like it really is used for cooking, unlike his and Bethany’s kitchen. The counter is lined with several appliances that Carver has never seen before, and the coffee machine in the corner looks like it costs more than Hawke’s car.

 

“So you do cook,” Carver says and turns around. Felix startles, his gaze flicking upwards and his cheeks going dark. It takes Carver a second to realize what Felix must have been staring at, suddenly very aware of just how low-riding his pants really are. Something in his belly clenches almost painfully when he sees the flicker of something familiar in Felix’ eyes.

 

“Tea,” Felix says quickly and ducks around Carver to the cupboard above the sink. “I should make some tea.”

 

“Uh, yes. Thank you.” Carver wishes his heart wouldn’t beat quite so quickly in his chest. It doesn’t help that he spots Felix’ phone, already taken apart and spread out to dry on a couple of kitchen towels on the table.

 

“Please sit,” Felix urges, and Carver does.

 

He sets a cup of tea before Carver not a moment later, and fidgets. “Would you like something to eat?” he asks. Carver only then notices the dry clothes Felix has changed into, something perfectly fitted in dark muted colors. His shirt is a stormy grey, long-sleeved and impossibly soft-looking, and without a doubt expensive. He also looks unbelievably cozy in a pair of wine-red trousers, and socks in mustard yellow with dark blue toes and heels.

 

He’s adorable. Bethany would say so outright. Carver sort of wants to huddle him close like this. He clutches the mug of tea instead.

 

“No, ‘m alright,” he says, trying for a smile. “Really porked myself on all that food earlier.”

 

“Ah, yes, right. Of course.” He leans a hip against the table and takes a sip of his own tea, keeping his gaze on the ground.

 

“Again, I’m sorry about that,” Carver says and nods towards the disassembled phone.

 

Felix shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.” His smile is a bit embarrassed. “I feel silly for spending this much money on a thing I only use to call my parents. And to text you, I suppose.”

 

“Oh.” Carver feels warmth spread through his chest - although that may just be the tea.

 

“It’s herbal tea with ginger,” Felix says as if he has read Carver’s thoughts. “It helps against the cold.”

 

It’s odd. Strangely spicy in a way but not altogether unpleasant. Carver takes another tentative sip, if only to have something to do other than stare at Felix and imagine running his hand under that soft snug shirt of his.

 

Felix clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Perhaps I can ask Dorian for an old phone of his while mine dries,” he says. “So I can still text you?” It sounds like a question, uncertain.

 

“You still want to?” The question is out of Carver’s mouth before he can stop himself.

 

Felix blinks and sets his own cup on the table. “Sorry? Why wouldn’t I?”

 

Carver snorts. “After today, I just figured… Maybe it’s stupid.”

 

“After today?” Felix parrots. “What was so wrong about today?”

 

Carver looks at him like he’s gone mad. He possibly has. “Between the wine and the rain, your phone, the fucking car… what was _right_ abouttoday?”

 

“ _Everything_.”

 

Carver might be a little too visibly taken aback by his vehemence; Felix demures, “Sorry. I only… Carver, I can’t imagine why you’d think such minor inconveniences would put me off.” He tucks his hands under his arms like his fingers are cold. “I liked tasting wine with you, even though it was to neither of our tastes. I liked getting caught in the rain with you, even though my phone might be a lost cause. I liked…” He pauses, shrugging a shoulder. It’s the most inelegant thing Carver has ever seen him do. Or just about. Felix can make horking down half a druffalo look graceful. “Well. I was very impressed with the way you just… pushed the car.”

 

“... What?”

 

“For nearly a quarter mile, I think! Maybr more. It must have been! You’re… you’re incredible, Carver.”

 

Carver is lost for words. “The way I pushed the car,” he parrots lamely, just to say something. Felix’s face is darker than he‘s ever seen it, color reaching from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. The longer he stares at him, the more mortified Felix looks. Because he isn’t saying anything, Carver realizes with a start. He’s halfway out of his seat before he even realizes it.

 

Felix looks at him, his eyes wide. “Forgive me. I didn’t meant to come on so strong…”

 

“No,” Carver says quickly. “I’m just not used to people being impressed by… anything I do, really.”

 

Felix makes a sound that’s somewhere between disbelief and offense. It’s kind of touching. “Well,” he says, moving his hands to hold on to the edge of the table, “I’m not used to people just pushing a car for half a mile.” His eyelashes flutter as he avoids eye contact. “Or to anything you did today. I enjoyed myself and I would like to see you again.” He sounds a bit stubborn, a tiny furrow between his eyebrows.

 

Carver feels a little stupid, standing like this - not sure if he should move forwards or sit back down.

 

“Unless,” Felix says, and Carver _watches_ his expression school itself into one of neutrality, “you’d prefer -”

 

“No. Stop.” Carver sits down hastily and takes one of Felix’s hands. “No. Maker, no. I… you’re _brilliant_. I’m not an _idiot_.”

 

Felix lets out a breath of laughter, and smiles, just like Carver hoped he would. “No, you’re not,” Felix says. He sits in the chair nearest Carver and squeezes Carver’s hand, but only barely, like he’s not sure if it’s the thing to do. So Carver squeezes back.

 

The refrigerator pops and whirrs in the background when Carver runs his thumb over Felix’s knuckles. “You’re really nice,” he says, and it sounds so daft coming out of his mouth, but it’s true, and it makes Felix smile. “I mean it. I like you a lot, you know? Even though I get you into messes like this because these things just sort of happen to me.”

 

“Being around you is a little like an adventure,” Felix agrees, looking down at their hands. “But a manageable one, thanks to your, ah… your strength. And the way you… take charge.”

 

He’s definitely getting red again. It’s brilliant. The laugh that bubbles in his chest is at least fifty percent relief. “I like that you call it adventure instead of disaster.

 

Felix looks up. “I don’t think being with you could ever be a disaster.”

 

It’s a little bit like a string inside his chest that’s being plucked, something sweet and aching running through him. Carver leans in before he thinks better of it and stops, just inches from Felix’s face. His eyes flick to Felix’s mouth, his slightly parted lips. “I‘d really like to kiss you.”

 

He can hear Felix’s breath hitch and before Carver can do or say anything else, Felix has closed the distance between them, his lips pressed against Carver’s and his hands flying up to cup his face.

 

Carver makes a little sound of surprise, not because of the kiss but because of the force behind it. Felix pulls back immediately, looking alarmed. “Was that too-”

 

Carver takes the opportunity to kiss him this time, delighted by Felix’s little sigh as he melts against him.

 

The shirt is exactly as soft as it looks, if not softer under one of Carver’s hands as he braces himself on Felix’s shoulder. It’s an awkward position, leaning in as they are. Felix seems to notice it, too, if the way he releases Carver just to kneel between his legs is any indication.

 

He reaches up and drags Carver down to kiss him again. He tastes bitter, like his tea, and his kisses are all enthusiasm without finesse, and Carver loves it. He cranes his neck down for Felix’s kisses, cupping his jaw, running a thumb against the grain of his stubble.

 

Carver’s going to get a crick in his neck like this, but he doesn’t care.

 

Felix, though, pulls back after a few moments - when did Carver’s fingertips slide down the back of his shirt? - and frowns. “This is incredibly uncomfortable,” he announces, and then -

 

Carver has a lapful of Felix at the kitchen table. His brain stutters to a stop. Happy enough with this new arrangement, however, Felix tips his chin up and takes Carver’s mouth for his own again.

 

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you,” Felix admits, muffled against the corner of Carver’s mouth sometime later, “for an age.”

 

“Make that two ages for me,” Carver says, petulantly.

 

Felix laughs a bit, his breath hot against Carver’s skin. “You could have asked.”

 

Carver runs one hand up and down Felix’ spine, just to feel him squirm a bit. He reacts to every movement Carver makes and it’s... actually pretty amazing. “I was being a gentleman,” he murmurs and places a small kiss on the slope of Felix’ jaw when he turns his head.

 

“For a while there, I thought you weren’t interested,” Felix says quietly.

 

Carver pulls back a bit, just enough to look Felix in the eye. “I’m very, very interested.” He accentuates every word with a little kiss until Felix laughs again, his hands running along Carver’s shoulders and up his neck until he can cup the side of Carver’s face.

 

“That’s good to know,” he says and bites his bottom lip when Carver holds him a bit closer, one hand splayed across the small of his back. He is so wide-eyes and ruddy-cheeked that Carver just has to kiss him again.

 

“For future reference,” Felix breathes, once Carver gives him the chance, “you never need to play the gentleman with me. Just… so you’re aware.”

 

Carver slips his hand under Felix’s shirt to palm at his hip. “Yeah?” he says. “I’ll just go around pushing cars all day for you then, shall I?”

 

“Yes, please,” Felix laughs, and shivers under Carver’s touch when he squeezes Felix’s hip. “Among other things.”

 

“I’m good for more than just pushing, you know,” Carver says, frowning. “I’m also pretty good at lifting. Carrying. Stretching.”

 

“I don’t know if I’d like to hire you, or get you into bed.”

 

Carver guffaws, dropping his forehead to Felix’s shoulder to hide his face.

 

He can feel Felix laughing too. “Too much?”

 

“A bit,” he admits, keeping his face down. He’s suddenly very aware that Felix is in his lap and that he’s only wearing a pair of sweatpants that are too tight anyway. It’s a dangerous combination.

 

“Are you being a gentleman again?” Felix asks, just a little bit teasing.

 

Carver draws circles on the skin of Felix’ hip with his thumb. “Well, you deserve it,” he mumbles, his forehead still pressed against his shoulder.

 

“Mh?” Felix shifts in his lap a bit, not on purpose but enough to make Carver bite his lip to keep himself from gasping.

 

“You know,” Carver says, tightening his grip on Felix’ hip just a little bit to keep him still, “the whole deal. Fancy dinners and flowers and all that.” He finally looks up, “Time, if you need it.”

 

Felix blinks and then just looks at him for a moment before leaning forward and kissing him, very sweetly.

 

“Those things are very nice,” Felix tells him quietly, “but I don’t need them. Not for myself, and not to… to have a high opinion of you. I like you as you are. And I like the things we do together.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re posh, you know?”

 

Felix snorts. He’s definitely done it on purpose, too. “Yes, well. I like you because you have lovely eyes and a stunning physique and you try very hard to pretend you aren’t the sweetest man I’ve ever met. I think you’ll find that has very little to do with being _posh_ at all.”

 

“You say that like you aren’t sitting here in my lap like a little prince, getting haughty with me in your fancy accent,” Carver tells him jostling a leg just to send Felix a little off balance. Felix steadies himself with one hand to Carver’s shoulder, the other to his chest.

 

“Accent?” Felix says. “I speak common with perfect diction.”

 

“D’you even hear yourself sometimes?”

 

“Do you know what I think?” Felix pulls himself up a little and leans in, his lips brushing against the skin right below Carver’s ear. “I think you like the way I talk.” His voice is low and kind of rumbling and Carver makes a strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat.

 

He does. Oh Maker help him but he does. Carver shifts his hips slightly to the side to hide the fact that he’s half hard already - which is embarrassingly obvious in these sweatpants.

 

He can feel Felix smiling against his neck and it’s pretty amazing. It’s even better when he moves back and smiles at him, so bright and so close it’s almost too much. “I love the way you talk,” Carver says and then he kisses Felix again. Because he gets to do that now. Just lean in and kiss him and Felix will kiss him back and clutch a the fabric of his shirt and sigh when Carver swipes his tongue against his bottom lip. The thought is enough to make him feel dizzy.

 

Carver doesn’t know how long they sit there like that, balanced precariously on a dining room chair, familiarizing himself with every crucial inch of Felix’s mouth, his face, his throat. It must be some time, though, because the sudden buzz of the tumble drier startles them both.

 

Felix leans back, panting, one of his hands curled into Carver’s hair.

 

“Your clothes,” he says, hoarsely.

 

“Shit. Right.”

 

Felix grins a little, his eyes flicking down to Carver’s mouth. Carver mirrors the action - Felix’s lips are red and wet, and the little flash of teeth with his grin turns Carver’s insides to mush.

 

“You don’t have to wear them back tonight,” Felix suggests mildly, scratching his fingers over Carver’s scalp. It sends a shiver down Carver’s spine and he needs to close his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he finds Felix smiling, just a little bit wicked.

 

“You sure?”

 

Felix shifts a bit in his lap and runs one hand along the hem of Carver’s shirt, his fingers brushing against the line of exposed skin there. “Entirely,” he says, and Carver’s head is spinning a little bit.

 

“Okay,” he says and runs his hands down Felix’s back, over his ass, until he can grab his thighs. “Hold on then.”

 

Felix makes a little noise of surprise when Carver gets up from the chair and lifts him up with him. It soon turns into laughter as he searches for something to hold onto and decides Carver’s shoulders will do. Carver puts him down on the tabletop for a moment, just to get a better grip and Felix immediately slings his legs around his waist.

 

“Do that again,” he says, his voice a little breathless. His eyes are wide and dark. So Carver picks him up again, properly this time. Felix isn‘t really heavy, not for Carver. Just a comfortable weight that comes with the added bonus of kissing him.

 

“You like that?” Carver grins.

 

“You’re very strong,” Felix says earnestly and kisses him again.

 

Carver laughs against his mouth but it turns into a moan when Felix rolls his hips. “Your room?”

 

It takes a bit of time and navigating to get to Felix’s room, mostly because they keep bumping into walls and doors and Felix always takes the opportunity to draw him into a distracting kiss. When the door to his room finally falls closed behind them, Carver is panting and achingly hard and probably red as beet.

 

After that, it all happens very quickly. Felix loses his shirt in a hurry, but insists on being the one to disrobe Carver. He lifts his shirt slowly, palms sliding up his stomach to his chest. He mutters something in Tevene, and quickly translates himself before Carver can wonder. “Amazing.”

 

“Shut up,” Carver groans, pressing Felix up against the door. “You gonna take it off, or just leave it there ‘round my nipples?”

 

“Don’t tempt me,” Felix hums, splaying his hands over Carver’s chest.

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

“I’m not. Your musculature is ridiculous. I want to lick your stomach. May I?”

 

“Uh.” Carver feels a wave of heat flood his body and pool low in his gut. “This isn’t the ideal position for… for that.”

 

“Yes,” Felix says, mournfully. “You’ll have to put me down.” And then, with a smile that’s altogether too innocent, “On the bed, preferably.”

 

Carver swallows, still not quite believing that this is actually happening, but obliges nonetheless. He puts Felix down on the bed as carefully as possible, but Felix doesn’t seem to share his patience. With a little laugh he pulls Carver down with him and flips him over on his back with a speed that‘s dizzying.

 

There‘s a satisfied little smile on Felix’s face as he pushes himself into a sitting position, his hands splayed across Carver’s chest.

 

“There you go again,” Carver says, his hands resting on Felix’ thighs. “Sitting in my lap like a little prince.” It’s not like he doesn’t appreciate the view. Or the way Felix shifts just enough to draw a small moan from him. Or the way he rucks up Carver’s shirt to run his nails up and down his stomach.

 

And then he actually does bend down and licks his stomach. Which tickles a bit but mostly it just feels amazing. He follows the lines of his abs, sometimes with kisses, sometimes with a little scrape of his teeth that has Carver’s hips bucking up.

 

When Felix reaches the waistband of his sweatpants, so very, very low, Carver curses under his breath, heat rushing through his entire body.

 

Felix stops and looks up, his cheeks ruddy and his lips slightly parted. “Okay?”

 

Carver nods even though he feels like he might fall apart at any second.

 

Still, despite his consent, Felix draws his fingers over Carver’s pelvis. He kisses one of Carver’s hip bones before, with an air of curiosity, he sinks his teeth into it. Carver jerks with a little yelp of surprise, and Felix pulls back with triumphant sort of smile.

 

“I’ve been wanting to do that.”

 

Carver lets his head thump back on the bed. “I’ve told you you’re ridiculous, haven’t I?”

 

“Mm,” Felix agrees, and bites him again. Carver’s legs spasm with the suppressed urge to knock him off the bed, and Felix takes that opportunity to drag his nails down the dark line of hair from Carver’s navel to his low-riding waistband.

 

He plants a hot, slow kiss on the side of Carver’s stomach as he works the sweatpants down, just enough to free Carver’s cock. Felix eyes it with a greedy sort of fascination that makes Carver’s mouth go dry. “You’re so big,” he says, taking Carver in hand. Carver, naturally, covers his face with both hands.

 

“You’re _ridiculous_.”

 

“So you‘ve said,” Felix hums and lets his hand slide upwards until he can run his thumb over the head of Carver’s cock, so gently that Carver almost cries out.

 

“Because you keep saying ridiculous things.”

 

Felix laughs and Carver feels his breath hot against his cock, enough to make him jerk again. “Will you watch me?” Felix asks, so sweetly that Carver couldn‘t possible deny him. Slowly he takes away his hands from his eyes, just in time to watch Felix’ tongue dart out and draw a slow circle around the head.

 

Carver groans, a sound so loud and filthy that it surprises even him. “Fuck, Felix-”

 

Felix smiles when he pulls back a bit to lick a straight line along the shaft. “You‘re very handsome like this,” he tells him, stroking him painfully slowly with one hand. With his other hand he draws circles on the skin of his hip.

 

“There you go again,” Carver says, fighting the urge to cover his face once more.

 

Felix just laughs and then finally closes his lips around him.

 

He can’t fit it very far, though he seems determined to try. After a few failed attempt at taking Carver down his throat, Felix pulls back with a stern expression on his face. Carver nearly laughs, delirious in how aroused he’s becoming at everything Felix does. Apparently, even frowning at his dick will do it for Carver.

 

“Perhaps it takes a bit of practice,” Felix ponders quietly, mostly to himself, and Carver grabs a pillow to shove over his own face. Whether he’s trying to hide or suffocate, only time will tell.

 

Felix isn’t at all perturbed by the possibilities, if the wet heat that returns around his cock is anything to go by. Carver’s hips start to buck before he stops himself, toes curling at the slow stroke of the hand in accompaniment up and down his shaft.

 

He curses again, followed by a mantra of Felix’s name, falling from his lips without his control, only partially muffled by the pillow. As if to answer, Felix picks up the pace. His lips, his tongue, his hand. It’s too much. Carver cries out, his hips bucking once more. Felix hums, actually hums, so utterly pleased with himself and it’s enough to take Carver over the edge. He rips the pillow from his face just to breathe, as Felix slowly strokes him through it.

 

Carver pants, his heart hammering in his chest. “You are…”

 

“Ridiculous?” Felix offers with a little smile and somehow Carver finds the strength to pull him up for a kiss.

 

“The most ridiculous”, Carver agrees and cups his face with both his hands, running his thumbs over the stubble of his cheeks. “I like it a lot.”

 

“I hoped you would,” Felix says and the accompanying smile is almost a little shy. It’s infectious; Carver can’t help but return it.

 

“My turn,” he says, and with a hand cupped on Felix’s thigh just under his ass, Carver flips them. Felix lands on his back with the air punched out of him, more surprised than truly winded, and spares no enthusiasm for gripping onto Carver’s shoulders and tucking an ankle around the back of Carver’s knee when he leans down to mouth at Felix’s throat.

 

Felix isn’t easily marked - Carver’s tried very, very hard, to little avail. Still, the spots he’s lavished with teeth and care must be sensitive, because Felix starts making _noises_.

 

Nice ones. Get even nicer when he reaches down to palm at Felix’s erection.

 

“This is going to be - o-oh - very, very quick, Carver,” he says, and to Carver’s mild amusement, his accent’s thicker than Carver’s ever heard it.

 

“‘s cute when you lose your _perfect diction,_ ” he teases, reaching further to cup Felix’s balls.

 

Felix laughs, breathless. He looks more beautiful than Carver has ever seen him, utterly relaxed and comfortable. With ruddy cheeks and the faint marks Carver left on his neck and chest. His eyes are hooded as he watches Carver and his lips are swollen from kissing him. His cocks lies heavy on his stomach, already dripping with want. When Carver finally runs his hand up the shaft and over the head, Felix positively keens, his back arching off the bed.

 

“Oh, Carver. Carver-”

 

Felix pulls him down into a messy kiss, his hand knotted in Carver’s hair. He gasps when Carver flicks his wrist and picks up the pace. Carver’s name turns into a string of Tevene, heavy syllables falling from his swollen lips. He keeps his forehead pressed against Carver’s, never breaking eye contact. His pupils are so wide, Carver thinks they could just swallow him up and he’d still count himself lucky.

 

Carver twists his hand and squeezes, just a little bit more pressure as he runs his thumb over the slick head of Felix’s cock. It’s all it takes. Felix comes with a shout that Carver quickly swallows with another kiss. His body is taut and shaking and Carver gently coaxes him through until he melts in his arms like butter, every limb soft and relaxed.

 

“I feel like I’m made of jam,” Felix says, his accent as heavy as his voice is tired. “Strawberry jam.”

 

Carver gently laughs into the curve of his neck and places a little kiss there for good measure. “Well, you certainly are sweet.”

 

“Ha!” Felix eyes slide closed even though he fights it, snuggling closer to Carver. “You are funny.”

 

After a moment, Carver rolls over onto his back and tugs the sweats back up with a grunt. Felix opens one eye, watching him carefully. “We’re a mess,” Carver says, staggering to his feet to find the bathroom again. He gives himself a quick wipe down, taking note of all the bruises and marks on his body - his neck and shoulders, mostly, and his fucking hip - before he wets a cloth and takes it back for Felix.

 

For his part, Felix seems perfectly content to stretch out and let Carver clean him, his eyes only barely open. The rise and fall of his breathing is a slow, even motion, and one hand rests atop his chest.

 

He’s beautiful.

 

“You can stay,” Felix says quietly, his expression lazy and not much else. He’s careful like that. “If you like. I hope you will.”

 

Carver thinks about going back out into the rain and driving home and his own empty bed. He thinks about Felix alone in this one, fingers cold despite being buried under three blankets. And he thinks about wrapping Felix in his arms, breathing him in and waking up next to him, his smile the first thing he sees in the morning.

 

“Yeah,” he says and crawls back into bed. “If you’ve got some space.”

 

Felix blinks sleepily, perhaps a little bit surprised. But his smile is sweet and his lips are soft when he kisses Carver. “For you always,” he murmurs and lets himself be drawn close to Carver’s chest.

 

Carver pulls the blanket over them both, making sure Felix’s ice-cold feet are covered as well. The rain is still pattering on the windowpane and Carver can hear the wind howling outside but in here, with Felix already drifting off to sleep in his arms, it’s warm and cozy. In here, things are good.

**Author's Note:**

> [Alvarado's Bathtub Boot Screech
> 
> If you can read this, you haven't drunk it.]
> 
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